Artíre's Revenge by WendWriter

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Chapter 4

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The High Priest, who had been calling out to Moko in front of his statue, turned around, aware that something strange had occurred. Though the people standing behind him had been silent before, there was a different quality to the atmosphere in the temple now. It seemed that, for a brief moment, everyone had stopped breathing.

Eshtun his servant stood looking at him expectantly, and as the High Priest stared at him, he smiled faintly back. If a feather from one of the sacrificial doves had fallen to the floor at that moment, the sound would have echoed throughout the temple.

The High priest noticed that all of the people were staring at Eshtun now, and it was clearly making him uncomfortable. Why were they staring at him? Had he said something, or moved in an unusual way? If that was the case, what exactly had he done?

The High Priest considered the matter. If he asked anyone what had just happened, it would be clear to them all that the spirit of Moko was no longer guiding him, and that he was no more spiritually aware than anyone else. They were staring at Eshtun for a reason. Could it be that the spirit of Moko had left his High Priest and entered this lesser being instead? Usually, when the spirit of Moko entered him, it was evident to everyone present: he shuddered, then his manner changed completely, and words were spoken with a voice that was not his. Prophesies were revealed, and things came to pass as predicted. This had been the way of things for twenty years, and his influence with the king had grown great because of this. If Eshtun was now the vessel of Moko, he would be made High Priest, and the servant would become the master. While this was an intolerable prospect, the idea of killing Eshtun was far from the High Priest's mind. Having felt the spirit of Moko enter him many times, he knew better than to anger him.

He knew what happened to people who did.

 

Twenty years earlier, Lokan was a shaman who plied his trade in the old quarter of the city, offering cures for assorted illnesses and telling fortunes. He read the entrails of animals offered as sacrifices to the local gods, and was respected as a Man whose prophesies often came to pass. He had an interest in dark magic, and sought the favour of many mages and sorcerers as he strove to develop his abilities and increase his knowledge.

It was as he studied the dark arts that he discovered necromancy. His efforts at communicating with the dead had led him to discover Moko. As he sought deeper and more thorough communion with his new god, he allowed Moko more and more control over him. He submitted many times to being completely possessed by his god, and reveled in the power granted him. His growing influence over many in positions of authority kindled envy in some men's hearts, and a plot was made to assassinate him. Warned of this in a dream, he sought out the plotters and confronted them, before a great crowd he laid a curse on them, in which he predicted that in three days they would all swell up and die in agony. Three days later, all of the plotters and the would-be assassins were dead.

Lokan was appointed High Priest of Moko on that day, and land was set aside for the Temple to be built upon.

 

Silence reigned in the Temple of Moko. Everyone stood still, waiting for the High Priest to either return to his incantations or for Eshtun to say something.

Sauron and some other Maiar entered the temple, unseen by the eyes of Men. Artíre, who was veiled in the flesh of Eshtun, servant of the High Priest, saw them enter and was afraid. Eshtun was aware of his discomfort, but could not see what Artíre saw because the Watcher had shielded his thoughts from him. It was obvious that Sauron was aware that something had just happened. What could he do? He searched Eshtun's memory, seeking a solution.

Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, Eshtun sneezed. "Excuse me," he said, "I do not feel well."

"Go, then, Eshtun," said the High Priest, relief writ large on his face, "and rest, for the sickly are not permitted to be here in the Temple of Moko. When you are fit for service here again, you may return."

Having no choice in the matter, Eshtun walked slowly out of the temple. Artíre saw through Eshtun's eyes that Sauron looked at him as if he recognized him, but he was careful not to look back at him directly. None of the Maiar followed him out. Disappointed that he could not remain there, Artíre caused Eshtun to walk back to his quarters, hoping that the flesh of the Man would shield him from Sauron's eyes. The Watcher hid from Eshtun the knowledge of the presence of the Maiar, so that all the Man knew was that Moko had apparently possessed him, but was choosing not to make this known at the moment.

Sauron went right up to the altar at the back of the temple, where the High Priest was making the incantations with renewed vigour, and entered him. Turning around, he spoke to the small crowd of worshipers that had assembled. "The inauguration of this temple went awry because a spirit of mischief, an enemy of Moko, entered this place intent on disrupting this sacred event. This being, and the person who harboured him, must be punished with the greatest severity."

Eshtun, who was still inside the temple, continued to walk towards the door, but his steps had noticeably slowed.

"It was said by many that a dead Man waked and talked, and that he attempted to seize another Man to devour him," the High Priest declared.

Eshtun kept on walking. He had been ordered to leave, after all.

"Men panicked and fled, and many were trampled to death in the riot that followed," the High Priest continued.

Eshtun continued towards the door.

"Today, the spirit returned, intent on wreaking more havoc!" the High Priest shouted savagely. "He had the temerity to enter the servant of the High Priest of Moko, even as he was at his prayers! Seize him!"

Eshtun, who had almost reached the door, risked a backwards glance and saw an angry crowd rushing towards him. Panicked, he ran, and tripped on the threshold of the main doors as the guards turned around to seize him. Artíre immediately poured himself out of Eshtun's mouth and slid down a crack between the stones of which the temple steps were made, looking for a new host in which to hide.

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A beetle, unnoticed by anyone, sat on the second step from the top. Seeing it, Artíre entered it, squeezing his essence into the smallest host that had ever held him, and scuttled away as fast as the tiny legs could carry him.

Artíre, who was sitting inside the tiny creature, guided it into a dark corner and made it remain there until the hue and cry was over.

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Sauron exulted as the hapless Eshtun was dragged before him and thrown forcefully at his, or rather, the High Priest's feet. "Confess," he ordered him.

"C-c-confess t-t-to what?" Eshtun replied, getting to his knees, his voice taut with terror.

The High Priest slapped his face, raking his cheek with his long nails, and drew blood. "You harboured the spirit of malice who disrupted the inauguration of this temple," he accused.

"I-I-I was p-p-praying to M-m-moko, I swear it!" Eshtun stammered desperately.

"P-p-praying to M-m-moko!" the High Priest mocked. "Were you p-p-praying to M-m-moko when the riot broke out that killed seventeen Men and crippled many others, Eshtun? Were you? Were you?! Answer me!"

Eshtun's horrified face went a deathly shade of grey as all the blood drained from it. He trembled pitifully, sobbing like a child in the grip of night terrors. "I have always sought to serve you, my lord," he wept, "I never intended to betray you."

Sauron poured himself out of the High Priest's mouth and into Eshtun's. Spreading himself all the way through the Man, he probed his memories, seeking any sign that his enemy had been in there. When he had found what he wanted, he left the Man and returned to the High Priest. "Take this Man outside and put him to death," he ordered.

"How shall we put him to death?" asked one of the priests.

"Cut off his head and burn the body," the High Priest replied. "That is punishment enough."

"But my lord..." the priest replied.

"Are you questioning me?" the High Priest asked him. His tone brooked no opposition.

"N-no, my lord," the priest replied, stepping back.

"Know this," the High Priest announced, "the spirit of mischief is still here in Rhûn, intent on causing what trouble he can. Today I will teach my priests a spell that will bind this spirit to the body he has chosen to occupy. If you should see anything unusual or suspect any Man of being a host for this being, cast the spell and call for a priest of Moko to attend the scene as quickly as you can. Then the spirit will be rendered harmless and will trouble us no more."

The words of the spell were written down, and every priest of Moko was taught how to cast it. Then they left the temple, seeking signs of the spirit who had caused the riot that had ruined the holy day.